A Song in the Forest
by EndlessBlue
Summary: The farewell that Robin and Much should have had at the end of S3.  Spoilers for 3x13.  Character death.


**A/N: **Inspired by a conversation on the RH Yuku boards. I'm not the only one who thought Robin and Much's farewell at the end of S3 should have been handled differently, in a manner that better acknowledged the importance of their relationship. A fellow Yuku member mentioned how appropriate it would have been had the series ended the way it began: with Robin and Much together. I ran with the idea, and this story is the result.

This story is unbetaed. If you have any constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it.

* * *

A house abandoned. Trees, like stones in their ancient stillness. The crush of dead leaves, memories of summer beneath their feet as they stumbled on toward the pale autumn sun. Robin's breath was a rasp. His servant kept him steady, one arm around his master's shoulders, another at his waist. The puffs of air from Robin's mouth ghosted warmth against Much's cheek.

They were used to wandering in the forest. How many days and nights, how many childhood adventures had they shared in these woods; and yet it was forever new to them. Robin eyed his friend.

"I am glad it is to be here."

Much walked on, throat closed, feeling his master laboring more and more with every step. The hero, weakened. The immortal day, passing into night. Much's world was ending, and all he could do was smile tightly, and shift his grip.

"This is my home, you know," Robin sighed. He swallowed back a groan; Much peered at him, keen to every sign of...of what awaited them. A smile sprung to Robin's lips; Much was surprised to find it a truly happy one. "I love this forest. I love its ways. Its quiet."

Much didn't want to think about how quiet it would soon be. He bit his lip, but it was too late. Tears, hot, stinging, pooled in his eyes and scalded down his face.

"Much..."

"I'm alright."

A sigh. A thready chuckle.

"No, you're not. _I'm _not-"

"Don't say that. You – you shouldn't be speaking, anyway. Conserve your strength."

Robin held back a reply. The both of them knew what he would say.

The path grew thick with roots. Much stumbled, and Robin had enough life in him to reach out his hand, and touch his friend's face, and say, "I've got you."

He saw Much's chin tremble, saw his eyes - red, shining, beautifully familiar. Felt his grip tighten.

Onward.

Much didn't know how far his legs could take him; he didn't even know where they were going, what destination Robin had in mind, but he knew he would walk at his master's side as long as needed.

Forever, if only it could be.

They reached a clearing. Robin said, "Here, Much." But his servant couldn't let go. So Robin put his hands over his friend's, finger over finger, and let them stay. "Tell me about this place."

Wide-eyed, confused, hurting, Much gaped, but when he felt Robin's grip slacken, he lowered them both against a fallen tree, worked moisture into his mouth – swallowed past the heat and tightness in his throat – and spoke.

"It's got lots of trees."

Robin's sharp laugh, surprisingly full, echoed around them. He relaxed against the tree, against his friend's shoulder, smiling.

"Go on."

"Ahm, it...it is large. And you can get lost in it very easily. And – and there are...many beautiful birds about in it." Much pulled his eyes up to the canopy of branches and sky. "In the morning, they sing to each other, very gently - but it fills the whole forest. And when they fly among the trees, you can hear their wings on the wind, _thump thump thump thump._ And you can hear twigs snapping. And...animals, every once in a while, though they're usually good at keeping quiet."

Robin let his eyes drift closed.

"What else?"

"You want more! You know, you are quite as familiar with Sherwood forest as I am."

"Conserving my strength, remember?"

There was no biting, ill-humored reply as he was used to receiving.

Silence. And, softly:

"I like the smell when it rains."

His voice had started to tremble again. Robin squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and felt the burn of tears.

"And?" he prodded, his own voice rough, weak. Urgent. Much's reply was hurried as he tried to speak ahead of his unraveling.

"And I love the colors, all the greens and browns and yellows and reds. You'd think I'd get tired of so much green, but it's really lovely! It's really beautiful. Really..." A stuttering gasp. "God, Robin...!"

"It's alright," Robin answered, "I'm still here."

"But you won't be." Much gasped in a breath. "How can you leave? It's awful. It's – it's too much." Finality, indignant certainty. Much at his finest. Robin found it within himself to smile again.

"No, it isn't. But I appreciate you saying so."

"Master..."

"No." Robin reached over and lightly punched his chest. "No more of that. It was never just that between us."

For a long, long moment, where Robin's heartbeat continued to weaken, and his muscles cramped in their fight to carry on, there was only the quiet of the forest, and Much's praised birds calling to the sky with their gentle, echoing songs. He opened his eyes, squinted.

"I know, Robin."

The slightest hesitation had preceded his name. Much's voice had gone low. "But you understand – I will _always _be your servant. I am forever at your side. And whatever you ask of me, I will do."

It was too good. Too wonderful. Of all the words a dying man could wish to hear, surely these were the sweetest. The burning ache of affection clawed up his throat.

"You love me, Much."

"I do, Master."

Robin turned his face into his friend's shirt.

"Please" - muffled, trembling - "Please know that you are loved so very much in return."

He thought he could hear a reply, but a sudden spasm had gripped him, and he curled in tighter against it. Unbidden, a name came to his lips: "Marian," he gasped.

"Hush," came his friend's voice, floating high above, drifting from some distant place. "She is with you. She loves you..."

At that, Much felt Robin relax, heard his breath slow from its frightening pace. "Quiet, now," he said. He knew, with the sodden weight of experience, that Robin's time was near. From some wellspring of strength Much had found Robin could always conjure within him, he pressed his friend's hand to his mouth, and spoke.

"At night, if we were not too tired, we would look at the sky and watch for falling stars. Do you remember? And you said one time there was nothing like England's land, and nothing like its skies. I am in total agreement, by the way – but of course, you know that. And – and there was one day when you tried to show off for Marian by vaulting onto your horse, except your horse got spooked and you missed, and she gave you this perfect look – I _did _like her, Robin – and you just laid there, grinning, as if everything had turned out just as you planned. You did that a lot. Believed in yourself. Made _me _believe in you. You should be proud, Robin. You have inspired so many people to stand up for...for the beautiful things. For truth. For what's right. I don't think England will ever be the same. And – this is silly to say, but remember when we came back from the Holy Land, and we caught the first glimpse of Locksley? We hugged, and I was sort of crying. To be honest, that's the moment I cherish most. When we were free. And home. And together. Remember?"

Much looked down, at a peaceful face. At a smile as gentle as it was still.

There was no answer, and there never would be; but the birds were still singing.

It was answer enough.


End file.
